


dangerous night.

by daddysin



Category: American Horror Story
Genre: ( i also say piss - so if you're offend by the word piss move on lol ), ???? - sorta, ANYWAYS -, Bonfires, Creampie, Dirty Talk, F/M, Mentions of Violence, Murder Kink, Psychopaths In Love, Swearing, Verbal Humiliation, dark themes, i think that's it but if i missed something - hmu :), sort of a bit of a friday the 13th sorta set up, tagging it as cody & michael to make it easier to find lol, we really got to get a jonathan tag up in this bitch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-03-13 14:14:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18942634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daddysin/pseuds/daddysin
Summary: I never said that I would be your lover.I never said that I would be your friend.





	dangerous night.

**Author's Note:**

> crossed posted to tumblr! Also, completely based on an ask (or maybe two) from ccodyfern on tumblr!

It’s still early, the party is stilling raging at full force. People are stumbling down to the water line to take a piss in the ocean, others are wandering off into the woods with a person they’d never met in hopes of getting laid and currently, you’ve sat yourself by the bonfire. Bottle of water beside your leg and a cruiser in your hand, the Splice flavour, a favourite of yours.

While not many people are huddled around the warmth there in a small group opposite to you, listening to one of those horror stories that have become so famous these days. All about the same serial killer, all bullshit in your opinion. It had never made the news, no bodies, no actual evidence so what’s to say isn’t all just bullshit concocted to get girls into your bed?

“He corners her, rips her guts out with his own bare hands – I’m serious!”

A scoff is heard, your eyes follow the noise. Long legs step over the wooden logs created to circle around the fire as seats.

“What?” the man practically sneers, offended he would interrupt his, ahem, ‘amazing tale’.

“You know that’s not the real story, that’s the” he waves his hand, “dramatic re-telling? I suppose after it gone through so many different people it’s easy to lose track”

His words are venom and he’s trying to get a rise out of him, deliberately egging him on. He wants to fight.

“Sorry Jonathan, if you’re so well versed in the history of made up serial killers, by all fucking means!”

He smiles, sly, “If you insist”

He sets down his beer in the sand, stares into the flames of the fire for a moment before clearing his throat. You’re embarrassed to admit you lent in slightly, the air is thick and you are begging to know what the true tale could really be, if it was less or more graphic. If it was something sickening enough, or if this whole party had been a complete waste of your fucking time and your friends would have to listen to you berate them on the car ride home.

“Everyone knows this, killer, he’s only ever gone after women. It’s his thing”

“Perv” one of the girl’s whispers, shaking her head.

“ _Not_ like that, he goes to parties like this and he scopes them out. Loners, sluts – whatever is making his blood boil that night.” He pauses, his eyes flash with something and his mouth morphs into a sneer, “His mommy wasn’t very nice so he takes it out on those just like her, or sometimes he just wants to. Sometimes he craves to see blood and his isn’t enough, no.”

Your fast twists in disgust, god you do feel ill.

“Anyways, it was similar to a night like this- “

Everyone lets out a laugh.

“I know. Just, bare with me. It was at more of a cabin like retreat, some kids had gathered there and he had come along a friend of a friend. He could feel it the moment his sneakers hit the soil and he breathed in the mountain air, his lip twitched and tonight was going to be special for him. Of course, he had to tie up any loose ends, the men had to go first lest they spoil the fun.” Jonathan licks his lips, he seems to be way to into re-telling this story, “It was sort of like a camp, you know? A summer camp they had broken into for the night and the men – god, they were so fucking stupid.”

He laughs, shaking his head, “They used the showers, the same time – every night. And the killer, well he had a knack for archery and it would be a shame not to do target practice before the big finale.”

“I think I’m going to be sick” one of the girls piped up, holding her stomach. Pale as the moon.

“So, he locked the door, acted as though he himself was going to use the shower, they thought not a single thing of it, why would they? He unloaded arrow after arrow some bodies had ten, some more and by the end the whole room was red, walls, floors and the water washing it down the drain was so beautiful he almost wept. He couldn’t believe it, it was like modern art to him, a complete and utter masterpiece he had made with his own hands.”

Jonathan’s voice almost faltered, you could hear the slight crack in his voice and it intrigued you further. Either he was a passionate story teller or he’d told this story many times, perhaps you’re beginning to think, in his private hours that he talked about it with something akin to adoration.

“He leaves the bodies there along with the bow, he doesn’t have time to clean up. It’s still dark and he believes he can make his way to the girls before sun rises. Of course, he enters stained with blood a grin on his face so wide you swear it was going to crack his face in half. It’s when they started shouting, screaming attempting to escape that he really got angry, upset really. He did them a favour, he let them live 15 minutes longer, he could’ve killed them first”

Jonathan tuts, as if remembering off by heart. “He had no choice, he did what any sane man would do”

“I wouldn’t exactly call him sane” you snorted.

For the firs time that night Jonathan’s eyes landed on you, cold, calculating, “Who asked you what you thought? I’m telling the story”

“And so, what? How does it end? Mommy issue having idiot goes completely nuts and slaughters a bunch of girls because they didn’t like him? Boring! I’ve heard it so many times.”

He turns, fully to face you. Curls bouncing and eyes narrowed, searching you over storing the information he’s gathered. Everything from the way your voice speaks in a melodic tone to the way you’re sitting slightly hunched over with your hands wrapped firmly around the alcohol bottle.

“If you count him cutting them open and hanging them up around the house like decorations and even placing some like little dolls, sure, you’ve heard it all before”

“Ok, so he goes for the shock factor. I’m not saying the story is crap I’m just saying, predictability!”

He grunts, “And how would you end it? He falls for one of them? Sparing their life and changing their ways, all your girls are – _all_ girls are predictable”

You falter, sputtering, “W-what? No! I just, I’m saying- “

“Then shut up before you find yourself apart of a long tale on a cold night”

Your furrow your brows, throwing what’s left of the drink in your hand into his face before storming away. Fucking asshole! It was a story, who gets so worked up over a story? He acts like he came up with himself, even if that was the truth had he never heard of criticism?

You hear the laughs echoing as you take your leave, you’ve decided to head back to the beach house for tonight. You’re surprised no one has noticed that you and your friends crashed this party, like you have friends in an area like this. Looks like the fucking Ritz.

You do your best to ignore the couple fucking on the couch as you look for a vacant room upstairs, locking and proceeding to fall face first into the pale pink duvet. Had you been that transparent, was it so completely obvious you wish he’d spared one of those girls lives to give you, _what you had wished_ , some horny details? Perhaps. You’d never talked or even seen him before, almost like a ghost and it seems he could read people pretty well, another frightening thought.

Of course, he could just be one of those pretentious douche-bags that crashes parties, makes people feel uncomfortable and tries to come off as ‘odd’ for the shock factor. Though, he didn’t have that cocky vibe about him, he was so cold and calculating. Everything he said was pre-rehearsed and he made no mistakes through the whole entire thing, he didn’t forget any details.

It was scarily accurate for a bonfire horror story.

A knock comes from behind you and you groan, “It’s occupied! Try one of the other rooms”

The knock comes against, persistent.

“I said,” you get up from the bed, fumble with the lock and pull the door open, “It’s occupied- oh, what do you want?”

Its Jonathan, shirt glaring at you with it’s big wet stain from your green alco-pop. You try your best not to feel guilty.

“I came to apologize? Can I come in?” He seems to sound strained even having to say the word ‘apologize’.

Regardless, if you get this over now you can have a peaceful night by yourself. You step aside to let him in and close the door softly behind you.

“I’m- “ he sighs, grist his teeth, “Sorry, I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.”

“Spoken?” you scoff, “It was more of a threat but, I’m too tired to think about it anymore tonight. So, I accept your apology there is the door, goodnight”

“You don’t have to be a bitch. I ventured up here out of the – _goodness_ of my own heart and you stand there like you piss gold!”

“Maybe I do” you cross your arms over your chest.

You can see it; he’s fighting back to say something. It’s in his eyes too. He wants to say it but he keeps his mouth shut, for now.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Now, while you still have the goodness in your heart would you mind leaving?”

And like that, Jonathans' resolve snaps. His face completely changes and he laughs, like a literal manic and shakes his head, “Girls all the fucking same. They only want one thing from you, they bed and plead for it, kiss the fucking dirt you walk on if you truly asked them and they’re always so stupid enough to do it. And you’re no better, sitting by the bonfire drooling all over the fucking sand about a story, a story of a man murdering his friends and that’s what gets you off, the mere thought of being one of those victims”

You stumble, falter entirely.

“You wanted one of those girls to be saved so you could come back up here and play with yourself as if you were that girl, that he was doing those things to you. Truth is, he hasn’t found one like that just yet. I’m sure he’s tried, I’m sure he’s hunted the ends up of the goddamn earth looking for one soul that doesn’t need to be sent back straight where it fucking came from. You want it to be you so bad, don’t you? You want him to be the one that takes you away from here and makes you do whatever he says, holds onto your measly life by a leash over a fucking dam, he could drop you at any point, what you thrash around and drown but that excites you, it excites you to no end that he could become tired of you, come home and bleed you dry”

Jonathan is breathing heavy; your cunt is pulsing and it makes your cheeks flush. You’re wondering if he can tell that too, that as he runs his hand softly over his clothed cock and his eyes flicker and roll back into his head that your panties are clinging to you like a second skin, that you feel the need to be taken on this floor right now until you’re so exhausted he’ll have to move you himself.

“Is that what you want? Is that the game you want to play? Mr. Serial Killer and unsuspecting victim?” Jonathan meets your eyes again.

You want to pass it up, you want to be smart and leave go home and deal with yourself there. Nothing is stopping him from laughing at you, spitting in your face and strolling down stairs to air your dirty laundry. But fuck, you’re willing to take the goddamn risk.

You nod, mouth parted and glazed eyes.

“I thought so”

He steps forward and it’s now you take him in, all height and big hands, decorated with large pulsing veins. You wonder if his cock if the same, you wonder if behind those black torn jeans if his cock is pulsing and leaking for _you_ , or if he himself is getting off only on the power he’s about to have over you. The fact you’re handing it over to him for one sweet night of unforgettable fear and pleasure.

He pushes you down onto the bed, you bounce from the force. Your thighs clench together, you’re trying your absolute best not to thrust into the air and contort your face in pleasure. You can’t give him the satisfaction.

He stands at the foot of the bed, looking down on you, there’s something so effortlessly dominate about it. You can see he’s not trying to come off dominate, no, he doesn’t need to because he knows he’s already got you doing what he wants, there’s no point in him attempting it.

“Would you like to know a secret?”

You nod, eyes falling to his large hands pulling at his belt to get to the zip and button on his jeans. He breathes out through his nose once the zip is down, the snail trail has you absolutely hypnotized. You want to see everything, all of him and you whine, the snug turtleneck his wearing accentuates his upper body but it frustrates you that you can’t see anything. You want to see his chest; you want to feel his skin under your fingertips.

“That story,” he breathes, pushing your sundress up, panties on display the wet patch staining the crotch as if you’d just pissed yourself.

He inhales, lips parted mouthing at your exposed thighs lazily, “It was about me”

He catches your eyes again, lifting himself to be chest to chest. One hand pulling your panties to the side the other holding his cock, poised and ready to enter you at any point.

You huff a laugh, “And you were berating me for having a weird kink”

He tilts his head, like a baby bird exploring new surroundings. His face almost looks puppy dog-ish. Eye’s all doe, “I’m not lying. I take it very seriously. I have the pictures; I carry them with me I- “

He moans, pushing against your center, “Though isn’t enough for me”

Panic erupts through you, you try to move away, collect your thoughts and process what Jonathan has just divulged to you, a dirty, filthy little secret that you’ll have to keep or _he could_ – _oh fuck he might_ – the loudest, if not the most pornographic moans leave your mouth. You can feel your cunt pulse against the tip of his cock, you feel another batch of slick coat you and him and it makes your eyes tear up. _You’re so fucking embarrassed_.

But, Jonathan smiles. He fucking smiles and pushes into you, grunting as he does so, hips pushed to your entirely. “You know, cunt’s like yours never cease to amaze me.”

He tears open the front of the sundress, the small buttons flying around the room. Your chest is rising at a fast rate, breasts jiggling at the movement. Jonathans' hand slides to your sternum, pressing hard to feel your heart beat.

“I can say the vilest, the most stomach-churning things and you wet yourself for me. Your cunt pulses and whimpers for a cock, _my_ cock. It’s always interested me, always made me wonder if I was to fuck you while I cut you open – _tits to cunt_. If you’d come.”

He mouths encloses around a nipple, tugging harshly and biting. His hips finally begin their pace and your cunt flutters with happiness, from that movement on you’re a mess. Moans and drool, wetness making a pool under your arse. Jonathans' pace is relentless and he’s not letting up any time soon, he’s talking to himself under his breath, as if having a conversation with two parts.

You reach up, cupping his cheeks. He slaps them away, pining them down by the wrists. Your ankles hook around his hips, brushing against the denim every thrust.

He pants, face flushed a crimson colour. The pleasure build-up is almost all too much, you feel too sensitive from the pace he’s set. You feel like you’re going to split in two.

“Do you have any idea how _stupid_ you are? Letting someone _like me_ do this? I could take your life; I could take every last breath you have. Nothing is stopping me from wrapping my hands around your throat.” He huffs, “When you threw your drink at me I – I almost, _almost_ gripped the back of your head and pressed it into the fire, I almost – _fuck_ ”

He groans again, the pressure on your wrists becoming stronger. He pants, moans, _growls_.

You softly moan with him; you’re begging for release and you’re hoping that Jonathan is nice enough to deliver that. You won’t beg, _you won’t ask_. Jonathan ultimately will do what he pleases. All you can do is lay back and thank the fucking gods, whoever the fucking is sitting atop those white puffy clouds for allowing you to have this moment. Even if he disappears and vows to never see your face again, you’ll always have the memory and the burning feeling of denim against your inner thighs as he ruts against you like a bat out of hell.

You gasp, hands making fists and your hips buck wildly. You wish you had something to grab onto, your back arches off the mattress, hardened nipples pressing against the soft fabric of his cashmere black turtleneck. Jonathans' eyes never leave your face, he’s watching every muscle in your face twitch, every quiver of your bottom lip, every flutter of eyelashes.

He can’t explain it, but he feels the same he did when he killed with a bow and arrow. He feels like weeping; his chest feels heavy. He releases your wrists only to grip onto your thighs, hitching the higher to sit up around his mid-section, fingers gripping the flesh for dear life as you lay boneless trying to blink yourself out of your post orgasm daze.

“I’m going to cum” he repeats over and over like a mantra, “I’m going to cum in you”

Jonathans' eyebrows furrow, his curls bounce and a bead of sweat drops into the middle of your chest. It’s so cold compared to the warmth surrounding your body.

You lick over your bottom lip, meeting eyes, “I want it”

He smiles, that small piece of childish glee lights up his face again. “Give it to me” you plead, beg.

He spreads you with his fore-finger and middle finger, dripping his head to spit on your cunt, before using the same fingers to rub your clit. The over stimulation has you bucking and gripping his wrist, “With me, or not at all” he growls.

With a high-pitched moan that sounds like it’s not even coming from you, you come again. Hands still locked tightly around his wrist and Jonathan refuses to let up. He follows shortly after, a panting sweating mess, teeth bared and clenched together.

It looks almost like he’s in pain for a moment. Carelessly he removes himself, he cum seeping out of you lewdly, he uses the bottom of your sundress to clean himself up.

“Jonathan?” you simper, eyes drooping. You’re trying your best to stay awake.

“I will find you. Stay here, don’t come out”

He locks the door as he takes leave. You don’t have the energy to follow him. You curl up to sleep and come that morning you’re glad you didn’t.

After taking a quick shower you faced with what you would class as a massacre. Jonathan had been on your thoughts the whole morning, including when you had been interviewed by the authorities.

You wondered when he’d come find you.


End file.
